


Get Some

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Biting, Blood Kink, Breathplay, Choking, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dark, Knifeplay, M/M, Rough Sex, sex as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 15:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Anomaly is on his first leave, and he wants to forget what he lost with his squadron.  Unfortunately for him, he finds Nibral.





	Get Some

**Author's Note:**

> As a warning, this is probably the darkest thing I've written. Just to emphasize, everything _is_ consensual, just... rough and messy, because it's Nibral.

Anomaly settles down at the bar, watching the clones surrounding him for a moment before he figures out how to signal the bartender for a drink.  He isn’t quite sure what he’s doing, and the older 327th members had tried to suggest he come with them to 79’s instead of here, but he wanted somewhere he could vanish for a little while, just another familiar face.  He isn’t quite looking for a good time, he wants a hard drink and to make the static in his head go away.

“Who let a lovely little shiny like you in?”  

There’s an arm pressing up against his, and a hand on his leg - he’s halfway to removing that hand by force before he pauses, cocking his head to look up at the brother next to him: he’s _big_ , Commando stock big, going by the muscles that fill out his off-duty uniform, and with scars over eyes replaced by cybernetics.  Instead of breaking the fingers on his thigh, he runs his own over them.  “You think I’m pretty, vod?” he murmurs, with a coy smile that stretches the still-healing scars on his own face.

The commando all but purrs.  “Would I have said so if I didn’t?”  His hand slides up Anomaly’s thigh, and Anomaly smirks before spreading his legs a little.  Hells, he’s drunk enough not to care too much, but he’s still sober enough to decide things for himself.  It almost feels _okay_ , doing this with somebody outside his squadron.  If he has another drink, he can almost pretend it’s Cabur’s hand on him.

“Would you have?  I don’t even know your name,” Anomaly says, quirking a brow at him.

“Is that important to you?”  The look in the commando’s eyes is turning cagey, and Anomaly quickly leans forward and steals a kiss that tastes like tabacc and good booze.

He smirks.  “Not a bit.”

“Perfect.”

* * *

 

So that’s how Anomaly finds himself on his back on a rented bed, pinned down by the much larger commando and kissed so hard his teeth have sliced through the inside of his lip, leaving his mouth bloody as the other clone kisses him, tongue in his mouth and tracing the cuts.

This is… it’s so different than any of his squadron brothers.  He can’t pretend it’s Cabur against him anymore, and he doesn’t really want to.  Cabur belongs to the past, to the Anomaly who deserved his love.  This is rough and harsh and _so, so good_ .  He isn’t thinking about how much he misses them, or how much he _aches_ , in his heart and in his still-healing skin and bones; he’s just thinking about what he needs and what his commando is demanding of him.  That’s easy.

He’d shoved him up against the wall the first time they kissed, as soon as the door was shut.  Anomaly’s head had cracked into the wall hard enough to make him see stars, and the commando didn’t stop, catching his mouth in the kiss that first split his lip open.  It’d been hard enough to force the breath out of him, but even as Anomaly’s head was spinning, it felt… good.  

The biting kisses down his throat feel good too, even as bruisingly rough as they are - he’ll wear marks of this for days.  The commando had yanked him off the wall and tossed him down on the bed like he weighed nothing, and Anomaly thinks he likes that too.  He likes feeling like nothing more than a toy, almost as much as he likes the edge of pain from the other clone raking nails over his ass before he even gets his pants off, just as the teeth scraping against his throat bite down hard.  

Anomaly whimpers and the commando smirks.  “You like that, don’t you?  Has anyone ever taken you before, lovely?”  

“Just my-” Anomaly swallows hard, burying the fresh wave of grief down below the sweet fuzziness of booze and the throbbing ache of the bites and scratches he already wears, “Just my squadron.  Been a while.”  Two months, one week, and four days, to be exact.  

The commando kisses him again, slow and rough, wrapping a hand around his throat.  Anomaly struggles for a moment before something changes in him, some part of his brain just _stops_ , and he goes still.  The commando squeezes his throat, cutting off his air till his chest is aching with the need to breathe, instead of the need to cry.  Finally, he lets go, kissing the marks he left while Anomaly gasps for breath.  “Better?”

Anomaly just nods and grins drunkenly up at him, a little hazy around the edges and buzzing.  “Fuck yes.”

“Oh, I’m going to _break_ you,” the commando says, leaning down to kiss him again, “And you, you’re going to thank me for it.”  Anomaly doesn’t have time to try to figure out what that means before a blade - not a vibroblade, just cold durasteel - presses against his chest, slicing through his shirt and skimming the skin beneath before he can say a word.  The commando shoves the halves apart, sitting on Anomaly’s legs and bending down to lick along the stinging line.  He can’t hold back a moan at the feeling, his hips twitching.  More kisses are pressed over his skin.  The other clone doesn’t even care about the scars covering his torso, aside from leaving more sharp bite marks over the sensitive, still-healing skin.  It _hurts_ , especially when he breaks skin on a few, but the pain feels _so good_.  He could get used to this.

“I leave marks on the people I fuck.”  It’s not a question, and really, Anomaly doesn’t want it to be.  Like this, he doesn’t have to think about anything, he can just take what he’s given - a small, dark part of him thinks he deserves the pain, even as much as he likes how much it makes the thoughts and guilt that hang heavy as a freighter on his shoulders disappear.  He just nods.  “Oh, you’re so good for me,” the commando purrs, but there’s no genuine affection there, no real approval, just… _satisfaction_.  

“I’ll be good,” Anomaly says, shivering as he does.  He _will_ be good, he can be good, he _wants to be good_ for the commando.  “I swear it, I’ll be good for you.”  

He laughs and bends down to catch Anomaly’s lips in a kiss, rough and demanding.  “I know you will.”  Those bright cybernetics focus on him, and he bites his lip again, tasting blood.  The look on the commando’s face, the twist of his lips in something that ought to look like a smile but somehow _doesn’t_ when he’s this close, it should scare him, but it doesn’t.  “Because if you aren’t…  I’ll have to make sure you learn to behave, hm?  But I know you, so eager to please, to be treated the way you know you deserve.  That’s what you want, isn’t it?”  

Anomaly just nods, tense under him, at least until the commando smooths his fingers over his scarred chest, stroking and soothing him, gentle at first before they dig in, scratching furrows over scars and smooth skin, blood welling to drip down his skin.  It distracts him for a second from the blade still resting on his chest until it cuts in, deep and burning hot and cold in turns.  His breath catches in his chest and he struggles before the rush catches up to him, taking him that much further out of his head.  

“That felt good, didn’t it, vod?  I know your type.  You want someone else to make that static go away.”  The blade trails down his chest, not deep enough to cut again yet, and Anomaly shivers.  “You can’t do it on your own, you need someone else to take it all away.”  He reaches between them to stroke Anomaly’s cock - the pain had been a shock, but it’s faded enough to pull him back into the fuzzy, pleasant haze he was drifting in before.  The commando is right; it _does_ feel good, even though it hurts - everything hurts in a way he can _handle_ , instead of drowning him under the waves of grief and self-hatred that knock him to his knees every time he tries to pick himself up.

The pain is an afterthought now, there and gone, there and gone again, and the pleasure is constant as the commando strokes him slowly with the hand not busy carving a sigil into his chest.  The two sensations weave together in his head, and he wonders if he'll ever be able to get off any other way after this - he’s going to think of this every time he comes for the rest of his life, how good it feels and how much it hurts, the feeling of his own blood staining his skin, his own soft moans in his ears mixed with quiet praise - _you’re beautiful like this, you’re being so good, I knew you would be, you’re such a good little slut_.  

He’s spiralling too fast and too hot, and he moans when the commando _orders_ him to come, falling over the edge before he consciously realizes it, come stinging the lines sliced into him.  For a second, he feels _okay_.

Before he can come down, three slick fingers are pressing into him - _fuck_ , the other clone’s hands are _huge_ , and he’s already so sensitive, every nerve on fire - it’s too much, too fast, and he whimpers, still too out of his head to manage words.  The commando doesn’t stop though, opening him up roughly.  It _hurts_ , at least until those fingers curl, pressing against his prostate and making him gasp, sparks dancing along his nerves, dragging him right back to where he was before.  The commando leans down, licking up the come and blood mixed on his belly, smirking at him as he pulls his fingers out.  He leans down to kiss Anomaly, sharing the taste, bitter and coppery at once, before he pulls back to strip, going slow enough that he can settle down and relax again, coming down just enough to realize what he’s gotten himself into as he looks up at the commando.  

Gods, Anomaly likes to be full - in what’s left of his conscious thought, he remembers taking Cabur and A’dan both, the tight, aching stretch of them inside - but commandos are fucking _big_ , everywhere.  Maybe with more prep, he could hope to fit-  He doesn’t have time to say a word before the commando is pushing inside, and Anomaly wraps his hands around his shoulders, blunt nails digging into his biceps till the other clone rips his hands away, pinning them over his head with one strong hand wrapped around both wrists for a moment, firm and unyielding, until Anomaly goes lax under him, submitting without a second thought.  “Can I trust you to keep your hands where I tell you to, lovely?”

He nods.  It feels better than he ever expected, being told what to do - it lets him float again, lets him take everything the commando wants to give him, and he revels in the feeling.  He’s untouchable like this; all he has to do is _take it_ .  Even the pain transforms into something better, something _pure_.  “I will, I promise.”

“I know you will.”  He kisses Anomaly again, hard and biting, before kissing down his throat and chest - the other clone’s mouth wraps around his nipple just before he thrusts in hard, the sensations fighting for his attention and making him cry out.  It feels _too good_ , it’s too much, but it’s _perfect_ , and he needs more.  He might say that out loud, he isn’t sure - whatever he says, it’s enough to make the commando bite down on his chest, making a dark ring of teeth around his nipple that’s going to bruise for _days_.  

After that, Anomaly loses track of time.  All he knows is the feeling of being fucked into the thin mattress, the taste of blood on his tongue, and the way their bodies moved together.  For a little while, he doesn’t feel any pain, no grief or guilt or anger, he just _is_ , and it’s a better high than he’s ever found.  He wants more, but he can feel from the short, sharp thrusts that the other clone is getting close.   He’s _achingly_ hard, but the commando isn’t touching him, and he’s keeping his hands over his head, obedient and _good_.

“If you want to come, you come on my cock and nothing else, understand?”  Glowing silver eyes meet his, and Anomaly nods with a shudder.  He almost thinks he can, especially when a hand wraps around his throat again, tight enough that he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, pounding as he tries to gasp for breath that won’t come.  He can feel himself spiralling up and over, just as the commando thrusts in hard to come with a low groan.  

For a second, Anomaly whites out, the whole galaxy dissolving into nothing but static and the ringing in his ears.  When he comes around, the commando is cleaning himself up with _his_ off-duty top and getting himself dressed.   He manages a confused noise, pushing himself up when he doesn’t get a response.  “You’re leaving?”

“You really thought I was going to stay?”  The laughter makes shame rise, hot and sickening, in his belly.  “This was just sex.  Nothing more.  You should get dressed too, they’ll come by to check the room in...” he checks his chron, “Fifteen minutes or so.”  With that, the commando tugs on his cap and heads out, the door loud in the silence as it shuts behind him.

Anomaly slumps back on the bed, closing his eyes.  He should get up, but he feels breathless and boneless, hollowed out and left behind like trash.  It _aches_ , and he should be angry, but he just doesn’t have the energy.  Wasn’t this what he’d wanted, to be used like some toy?  He’d gotten what he wanted - why does it still _hurt_ ?  He snorts a little - it’ll hurt more tomorrow, he’s sure.  He rolls off the mattress, wincing as he stands on shaky legs.  He looks at his shirt, sighing as he realizes it’s ruined, and uses it to clean himself up as well.  The pain lances through him as the fabric drags over the cuts on his chest, and he hesitates before he simply throws it in the disposal unit before shrugging on his undershirt and tugging on his uniform pants and boots.  He pulls his cap low to hide his eyes - he doesn’t really feel like making eye contact with anyone else tonight; he knows it’s stupid, but it feels like they’ll be able to _see_ how fucked up he feels if he does.  One last cursory check of the place, avoiding the bloody, come-stained mattress, and he heads out, opting to walk back to the barracks on foot.  It hurts, but he hopes it’ll clear his head.

It doesn’t.  He just feels tired and wrung out as he trudges straight for the ‘freshers.  He’s still a mess, and he needs to get bacta on his cuts.  Luckily, none of them look deep enough to need stitches, so he can avoid the medics and just go to bed like he wants to.  The shower is cold and makes him shiver, or maybe that’s him finally coming down from the rush of sex.  He looks in the mirror as he dries himself off - he looks like nine hells, eyes glassy and hazy, his chest bitten, scratched, and sliced to shit, and a rapidly darkening bruise around his throat.  As much as it hurts… for a little while, it felt _good_ .  He can still feel it a little, the weightless sensation of not having to think, not having to do anything but let himself be used.  Even the pain is different, better, _purer_ somehow - it’s the kind of pain he can handle, the kind that isn’t an exhausting, bone-deep ache that threatens to smother him in grief and loss.    

As he slumps into his bunk and curls in on himself, he hates that he’s already thinking about whether he’ll be able to find the commando again.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's the story of why Anomaly is the way he is.


End file.
